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NARCISSUS 



Narcissus and Other Poems 



By 
BLANCHE SHOEMAKER WAGSTAFF 



Author of "Atys," "Eris," "Alcestis," 
"The Book of Love," etc., etc. 




NEW YORK 
JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 

1918 



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Thanks are due Geo. H. Doran Co., The Macmil- 
lan Co., the editors of '^Harper's Magazine,'' "The 
Madrigal," "Contemporary Verse," "Vogue," "Pear- 
son's," "Town Topics," "The Egoist" (London), 
"The Vigilantes," "The Lyric Year," "The N. Y. 
"Sun," "The Minaret," "The Poetry Journal," The 
'New York "Herald," "The International," The Lon- 
don "Hearth and Home," "Town and Country," "The 
Bang," "Pulitzer's," "Others," "Vanity Fair/' 
"New York Topics," "Smart Set," and to other 
periodicals and newspapers for their permission to 
reprint poems thta have appeared in their pages. 



COPYRIGHT BY JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
1917 



JAN 25 I9i8 

©C1,A481539 



\h3^-\ 



DEDICATION 

you opened ivide the fwindoivs of my soul. 
And beauty entered like a sainted guest 
All clad in choric splendour, fivith her breast 
Speared in transcendent flame from some far goaL 
Before me vistas of fair climes unroll, 
Glory unknown, and calm, inviolate, 
Pure twinged joy, too siveet to contemplate. 
And loveliness breathed from an unseen shoal. 

Freed of all mortal chains, I fwalk alone 

Like some pale daivn-star in the embered ivest, 

By all the ivinds of heavenly harmony blovon; 
— For in that hour, above all others blest. 

You brought me, as the voice of God that nears, 

The commiserating ecstasy of tears. 



CONTENTS 

Dedication 

NARCISSUS 

Narcissus 13 

DIVINATIONS 

Voices 19 

The Cuckoo-Call 20 

Blue Night 21 

The Miracle 22 

Invocation to Night 23 

Song of Freedom 24 

I Dwelt With Sorrow Long 25 

Joy Sings in My Heart. 26 

Was It the Voice of Spring ? 27 

This Little Self 28 

Mother 29 

To A Girl Playing 30 

April 31 

I Never Knew 32 

Song of the Weary Traveler 33 

Hope 34 

Mutability 35 

7 



Choice 36 

Enigma 37 

When I am Dead 38 

Elegy '. . . . 39 

Less Pale the Almond Bud 40 

By the Sea . . c . . 41 

May Night 42 

Chant of Life 43 

Beauty Like a Bird 44 

You Took with You the Spring 45 

I Thought Love Dead 46 

No More 47 

Mourn Not for Me 48 

So Quietly Love Came . -. 49 

Therefore 50 

Credo 51 

Nocturne 52 

Aphrodite 53 

Ashes 54 

Requiescat 55 

Imprisoned 56 

You Whom I No Longer Love . 57 

Twilight 58 

A Daughter to Her Mother 59 

Resurgam • 60 

When Life is Done 61 

Shadow 62 

Metempsychosis 63 

After Love 64 



Renouncement 65 

Teach Me to Suffer 

PAGEANTS 

Pageants 69 

Behind the Scenes 71 

In a Cafe 73 

The Dancer 74 

In the Depot 75 

Litany 77 

Adonis 78 

Seekers 79 

Bacchante 80 

I Pity All People. 81 

O Vita ! O Mors ! 82 

America, to Arms 83 

Spring in Wartime 84 

Soldier's Prayer to Beauty 85 

Conscription : the Mother Speaks 86 

Reveille 87 

In the Armory 88 

The Soldier 89 

LOVE SONGS 

Love Songs 93 

APRIL IDYLS 

The Silent House: Vale 113 



NARCISSUS 



NARCISSUS 

GOLDEN as dawn he stands amidst the green, 
Flecked with an amber shadow, and his eyes 
Are amorous of some dream whose beauty lies 
Beyond the stars in mythic paths unseen. 

No reed of yellow corn is gold as he, 
His naked body like old ivory . . . 

Sweet brow to love unknown, — each veined wrist 
Blue like an early violet 'neath the snow. 
His lips more brilliant than the sun's first glow. 

And lips that only virgin winds have kissed. 

Some cloud-fay might have woven such symmetry, 
A line of flowing color, throat to knee. 

He pauses midmost in the wooded dell 
Eager of every sinew, cheek alight 
As of a million moonbeams in the night, — 

His breath is like the bloom of asphodel. 



IS 



What quest has sent him here this silent hour 
When all the east is bursting into flower? 

What thought perturbs the calmness of his face 
In that still moment's meditative light? — 
Some dreams that sends him shuddering and white 

As dawn and darkness meet in soft embrace . . . 

He walks as one enchanted beneath the trees, 
Knowing not whither, yet his vision sees 

Beyond, and ever beyond some phantom thing 
Toward which he wanders, groping in the air, 
With hands outstretched in passionate despair. 

He follows evermore the summoning 

Thro' wood he passes moving as a fawn 
Like an incarnate spirit of the dawn. 

O'er hill and emerald vale he comes at last 
Beside a silvery stream, whose banks are grown 
With myriads of blue iris overblown 

And passion-flowers with all their splendor past. 

The boughs above embower him from the sky — 
He kneels, entranced, as if about to die . . . 

Trembling with dream ineffable, his eyes 
Gaze downward in the water's emulous deep, 



14 



Where looking up, as if from starry sleep, 
A lovely boy smiles amorous surprise. 

Golden as dawn and shot with shimmering light, 
His breast is as a lily in the night. . . . 

He stoops possessed of sudden, keen desire, — 
Those lips have been his quest for many years. 
This throat whose loveliness would waken tears — 

This girlish face mirrored with tender fire. . . 

Shuddering with joy he bends to clasp his love, 
While wooing-notes of robins float above. 

Lips upon lips, and meeting breast to breast. 
He lies face downward, cleaved at last, and whole, 
Twain with his dream and silent soul to soul — 

In sweet cessation of the ageless quest. 

His sinuous body shivers with excess 
Of love's intolerable loveliness. . . . 

Consumed as if in some translucent cup, 
Mouth merged with mouth in one ineffable kiss 
He swoons with incommensurable bliss, 

While swelling waters gently suck him up. 

. . The sun veers in a diadem of rose, — 
Deeply he drains a rapturous repose. . . 



15 



Drawn by the dream-lips of a golden boy, 
Lead by a vision to the brink of death, 
He sinks respiring beauty as a breath 

Upon love's immemorial bier of joy. 



16 



DIVINATIONS 



VOICES 

VOICE of the wind, 
Of the rollicking wind in the trees; 
Voice of the leaves, 

Of the sweet-singing boughs in the breeze; 
Voice of the streams. 

Of the silver tongued waves on the shore; 
Voice of the shower, 

Of the mirthful, May-visioned downpour; 
Voice of the stars. 
Of the lyre-tuned lights of the sky; 
Voice of the flowers, 

Of the blithe buds that know not a sigh; 
Voice of the birds. 
Of the nest-seeking spirits of light; 
Voice of the dark, 
Of the golden imperious night; 
Voice of my soul, 

Thou art wind, wave and shower, 

Leaf, dark, and bower. 

Bird, star and flower 
One and inseparable whole! 



19 



THE CUCKOO-CALL 

THERE is peace in my heart to-night, 
Because I have heard the cuckoo-call 
Down by the windy shore where the gray mists fly! 



There is peace in this moonless hour, 
Because I have heard the voice of the Past 
Chanting a tender requiem for my heart! 



20 



BLUE NIGHT 

BLUE night falls 
About me in a mute caress 
Of loveliness, 
And the wind calls 
In sudden minstrelsy 
From every tree. 
I want no more than this: 
The wind's kiss 
And the nightfall over me. 

When silence sends 

Its gentle lore, 

And youth is o'er, 

I want no more 

Than, when life ends. 

The quiet stars should weep 

On my eternal sleep. 

And there should be 

The wind's kiss and the nightfall over me! 



21 



THE MIRACLE 

LET me be thankful for the flaming day, 
The noon that burns to splendor, when I hear 
The feet of Beauty passing on her way, 

The voice of Beauty as she trembles near, 
Sweet silvery wraith, my hope and my despair! 

Man's path is but a pilgrimage of need 
Seeking the ultimate star, the hidden lair, 

And if he falters in his ruthless greed 
Let him remember life, the miracle — 

The rose of evening faint against the sky. 
The slow moon's glory risen in the dell. 

First love, and children's laughter floating by. 
The sweep of sudden wind among the trees — 
Let me be thankful. Lord, for all of these. 



22 







INVOCATION TO NIGHT 

NIGHT, so still and calm and blue, 
Why am I not a part of you? 



O stars, serene in silent space. 

Would I were clasped in your embrace. 

O dark, so deep and mild and fair, 
Enfold me in your ebon hair. 

O night, so still and calm and blue. 
Your peace alone is pure and true. 

Rest upon earth I cannot find, 
Tossed ever by the inconstant wind; 

Nor is there shelter for my soul 
That walks from misty shoal to shoal. 

night, so still and calm and blue, 

1 would I were a part of you! 



23 



I 



SONG OF FREEDOM 

WILL go out and forget love and be as a bird 

in the sky — 
Free with the soaring breezes and the clouds that 

wander by; 
(I will go out and forget love and be as a bird in 

the sky!) 

I will go out in the wide lands, alone in endless 

space, 
Where the earth is a-blaze with splendor, and I 

kneel in the sun's embrace; 
(I will go out in the wide lands alone in endless 

space.) 

I will go out and forget love as the wild wind in 

the sky, 
And be as a bird without bourne or kin or aught to 

hold me by — 
(I will go out and forget love as the wild wind in 

the sky!) 



24 



I DWELT WITH SORROW LONG 

I DWELT with sorrow long . . . 
But when bright April came 
With feet of flame, 
I said: 

"Heart, joy is not forever dead!" 
(Again I heard the nesting robin's song.) 



JOY SINGS IN MY HEART 

JOY sings in my heart like a wild bird 
At dawn of Spring, 
And the light of the sun leaps 'from stream to plain 
On golden wing. 

Twitter! twitter! sweet, O withering sweet 
April melody! 

I am a reed that quivers with too much song 
Blown from a blossomy lea. 

Beauty lingers, a silvery tear 

In the curved cup of a flower, — 

So Joy, the song of my heart, trembles near 

In this God's hour! 



26 



WAS IT THE VOICE OF THE SPRING? 

WAS it the voice. of the Spring or the voice of 
my love that called me 
Out of the boughs of the birch-tree snowy with 
moonbeams? 

Ah, it was sweet like the chant of a bee seeking 

honey, 
Culling the nectar of dreams from a blossomy 

bosom! 

Was it the face of the Spring or the face of my 

love that smiled on me, 
Silvery pleading that swooned on the sea-scented 

breeze? 

Ah, she was fair as a daffodil, golden, shimmering, 
Her throat like a calyx woven of wonderful star- 
kisses! 

Was it the Spring or my loved one that sang in 

the midnight? 
Whose were the lips that I touched dewy with tears? 



27 



THIS LITTLE SELF 

THIS little self that struggles thro' earth's space, 
Passing from light to dark, from mist to clear, 
Conscious of need, and seeking for God's grace. 

Possessed of giant hopes and puny fear. 
So arrogant with pride, so weak in pain, 

A prey to sudden tears and strange delight. 
Pursuing phantom loveliness in vain; 

What am I, — but a star-fall in the night, 
The passage of a gleaming stellar flame. 

That soars its little hour and then expires. 
Drowned by eternal dark from whence it came, 

Sunk in a sea of its own frail desires. 
Knowing not why it soared, or whither gone — 

A shuddering ray against the poppied dawn! 



28 



MOTHER 

WHENEVER I look in her kind eyes 
I think of the wide, still sky, 
Where the breath of God like beauty lies, 
And the clouds are sailing by. 

Whenever her care-worn face I see, 

Or feel her lips on mine, 
I think of the tears she has shed for me, 

Silently, without sign. 

Whenever she holds me to her breast, 

To still the aching pain, 
My heart is lulled to a perfect rest 

And — I am a child again! 



TO A GIRL PLAYING 

BLITHE spirit of sea and air, 
O marvellously fair! — 
What Beauty of unearthly spheres, 
What immemorial tears 
Of vanished ages, fill my heart 
When, like some rippling waters, start 
Your sylvan notes. 

Clearer than those of robins' throats. 
Sweeter than wind across a sky, 
Deeper than sea-song when a storm is nigh. 
More vibrant than a crystal bell 
Tolled softly in a scented dell? 

O, are you Atthis come again. 

Singing of longing and of pain? 

Or are you Phryne from the sea 

Shaped from a master's ecstasy? 

Or yet Isolde whose love-breath 

Was sudden rapturous death? 

What strangeness of a vanished land 

Dwells in your eyes, thrills from your hand, 

When lo! I hear your silvery plaint, 

Music that makes my spirit faint. 

Beauty, like a woodland spell — 

Melody unimaginable! 



80 



APRIL 

MAGICAL April! 
Star-shod, shimmering April, 
With tresses of moonlight, 
You come to me quivering with beauty, 
Your laughing lips and your bosom 
Dripping with azure. 

In the streams that are swiftly coursing, 
In the woods with the violets springing, 
In the blue-bird that sings in the willows, 
In the winds that are soft and perfumed, 
I hear the voice of you, April, 
And the sound of your gentle footfall. 
And your wild sweet laughter swelling 
Over the rainbow meadows. 

Magical, shining April! 

Star-shod, whispering April, 

Pour me your golden plunder. 

And fill my heart with your rapture. 

Until quickened beneath your kisses, 

I may feel again the secret of my lost girlhood! 



31 



I NEVER KNEW 

I NEVER knew the hours could be so long, 
I never knew the sky could be so gray, 
I never knew the sea could lose its song — 
Until you went away. 

I never knew how dark could be the night, 
I never knew how blossomless the May; 

I never knew that beauty could take flight — 
Until you went away. 

I never knew that life could be so drear, 
I never knew how purposeless the day, 

I never knew, O Sweet, I need you near — 
Until you went away! 



32 



SONG OF THE WEARY TRAVELLER 

I AM weary, I would rest 
On the wide earth's swelling breast, 
Nurtured by the quiet sod. 
Where the fragrant dew has trod. 
Soothed by all the winds that pass. 
Hearing voices in the grass 
Of the little insect things 
Happier than the mightiest kings! 

I am weary, I would sleep 
In some quiet perfumed deep, 
Where no human touch could bring 
Tears to me or anything. 
There I would forget to weep 
And my silent cloister keep; 
There I would the earth embrace, 
Meeting Beauty face to face. 

I am weary, I would go 

Where the fields are white with snow. 

Where the violets have lain 

Far from human strife and pain, — 

Far from longing and delight 

Thro' the endless starry night; 

There I would forget to weep, 

And my silent cloister keep. 



33 



HOPE 

LOVE took the light. 
And went away; 
I walk in darkness 
Day by day. 

And yet I know, 

Though it be far, 
My path winds somewhere 

To a star. 



$4 



MUTABILITY 



MUST 
The gold of this hair 
Become dust, 
And this white breast, 
Soft like the nest 
Of a dove, 
Fade on air? 
Must 

These sweet finger-tips, 
Made 
For love, 

And these rose lips. 
Fade 
To dust? 

How could such beauty be 
To perish utterly. . . . 



35 



CHOICE 

I SANG, "O, Love, set me free- 
As a bird on the air 
My heart would be. 
Sailing afar where the skies are fair, 
Thro' the endless years." 

But when Love left, 
And I walked alone, 
I said bereft: 
"Come back, my own. 
Give me my tears!" 



36 



ENIGMA 

I LIE in your arms; 
The night is cool, 
And under the stars 
Your face is calm. 
Yet why do you seem 
Stranger to me than any stranger? 

Is it to you that I have given 

My body as a shrine? 

Is it upon this breast 

That I have lain and moaned for love 

Thro' the long numberless nights 

Of my Youth? 

I lie in your arms, 

And under the stars 

Your face is calm. 

Even so 

Shall it always be. . . 

(For we shall always be strangers to each other.) 



37 



WHEN I AM DEAD 

WHEN I am dead, 
Bury me with the one I love, 
With my head 
On his bosom, and my heart 
On his heart; 

Let green grasses spring above. 
(Nevermore, Beloved, to part!) 

When I am dead, 

Bury me v^ith the one I love, 

Spirit-wed 

In sweet trust, 

Bone with bone and dust with dust, 

Let green grasses spring above. 

(Nevermore, Beloved, to part!) 



3S 



ELEGY 

T GROPE in the dark, 

And there is no hand; 
I seek, 

And there is no light. 
I walk alone 
Amongst the silences; 
They are like white lilies 
Topping a grave, 
And the grave is my heart. 
Desolate as a tomb. 



39 



LESS PALE THE ALMOND BUD 

LESS pale the almond bud 
Upon a bough; 
Less pure and new-born moon 
Than is her brow. 

More amber dwells within 

Her tangled hair 
Than any sunset glow, 

Divinely fair. 

As delicate as winds 

That skim the sky, 
In sudden Springtime showers, 

Her gentle sigh. 

O fair and flower-sweet 

Her tender glance; 
Her voice is softer than 

The starbeam dance. 



40 



BY THE SEA 

HERE peace and beauty reign, 
Here by the sea; 
Here I am whole again, 
Of pain set free! 
Flung to the dappled sky 
All old desire, 
Cleansed in the sun-fire 
That which was I; 
Each little nerve of me 
Strung sweet anew, 
Each weary sense of me 
Soothed by the blue; 
No more the ache of things 
No more the sigh; 
Hark! has my soul spread <wings 
Into the sky? 



41 



MAY NIGHT 

NIGHT! cool, enveloping, delicious, 
Perfumed magical night of spring — 
Fold your arms about my lover and me, 
That we may hide in your sheltering darkness! 

Night, radiant with many stars, 

Sky, mother of pearl and azure. 

Let your silence descend on my lover and me, 

That we may dwell in sylvan quiet. 

Night, fragrant with new grass and lilac, 

Pool of endless shadows. 

Bathe with joy my lover and me. 

Till we swoon in the wreathed wavelets! 

Night, cool, enveloping, delicious, 

O mother of love, mistress of beauty. 

Give of your darkness wherein we would perish, 

Drunken with dreams, my lover and me. . . 



42 







CHANT OF LIFE 

NLY Love is real, 
Life is a dream and I as a dream pass by. 



My fellow-creatures 

Are marionettes that swing thro' space; 

Like gyrating figures 

They pass in a pageant of myriad color; 

Even as I, too, pass 

Moved by the unseen strings that shift the scene. 

And I know not why 

There is all this weeping and laughter upon earth. 

All things are but shadow, 

Life is a dream and I as a dream pass by. 

Only Love is real, 

Only the face of Love as it lies on my heart. 



43 



BEAUTY LIKE A BIRD 



BEAUTY like a bird 
Filled my lonely heart; 
Oh, the music stirred! 
Oh, the lyric-start! 

All the tremulous air 
Sweet with pollen-scent, 
Singing everywhere, 
Glory, wonderment. 

Oh, the light above. 
Oh, the blossoming; 
Is it sudden love — 
Or the torch of Spring? 



44 



YOU TOOK WITH YOU THE SPRING 

THE sun's smile is no longer gay, 
The budding earth has ceased to sing, 
For when you left me yesterday 
You took with you the Spring. 



I feel no more the wonder-thrill 
Of wind or flower blossoming; 
The world is hushed, my heart is still — 
You took with you the Spring. 

Oh, all things beautiful are sad, 
And all things sweet have taken wing; 

My heart will nevermore be glad; 
You took with you the Spring! 



I THOUGHT LOVE DEAD 

I THOUGHT Love dead, 
And saw him borne away, 
One April day. 
Unto a quiet mound. 
And lying by his side I wound 
A garland of white roses fair 
In his hair, 
And lilies sweet 

For peace, I placed about his feet, 
An ivy chaplet for his head; 
I thought Love dead. 

I thought Love dead, 

And sang his requiem in tears 

For many years. 

All knew my pain and said: 

**Yea. Love is dead!" 

I thought Love dead; 

One night I sought his lonely bier, 

There were strange wind-songs near, 

And in the soft moonrise 

I seemed to see the flicker of his eyes — 

A gleam from shadowland. . . . 

And when I touched him with my hand 

I heard him speak; 

(O God, still warm his cheek!) 

An ivy chaplet for his head — 

I thought Love dead. . . . 

46 



NO MORE 

NO more to hear his footstep on the stair, 
And see the grace 
Of his exquisite face; 
No more to kiss his hair, 
Bright like the sun; 
No more to hear him speak, 
Or touch the softness of his cheek, 
Sweeter than any flower; 
To know the dream is done. 
And, hour by hour, 
Await his footstep at my door 
That comes — no more. 

No more to call his blessed name 
When I awake. 

And feel the morn grow fairer for his sake; 
No more to claim 
His little, gentle childlike ways 
That gladdened all my days. 
Or in the tired twilight glow 
To seek his side and tell my pain; 
Always to weep alone again, 
O God, can it be so 
The beauty that we knew of yore 
To come — no more. . . . 



47 



MOURN NOT FOR ME 

MOURN not for me when I am gone away, 
Nor shed sad tears that I should be alone 

Beneath the grasses where the flowers are grown, 
Where all is silence and there is no day; 
Do not lament me, or with sorrow say: 

**Now she is gone, oh, greatly must we weep." 

For wrapped in my interminable sleep 
There will be no sharp, quivering breeze of May, 
Or blossom-stir, or sight of things too fair, 

(A twilit plumed red-bird on the wing) 

To trouble my long tranquil slumbering; 
Yea, I shall be at rest who had to bear 

Beauty too keen and pain that had no end; 

Earth will have taken me again to friend. 



48 



so QUIETLY LOVE CAME 

SO quietly love came, 
I did not hear his name 
Thro' the night; 
Only silence fell, 
Like a starry spell 
Of light. . . . 

There was no caroling 
Of bird or trumpet-flare; 
Only on the air 
The sudden burst of Spring, 
And in my heart a flame, 
(So quietly love came!) 



49 



THEREFORE 

MY new love came to me and said: 
**What tears are these you shed 
At dawn and eventide? 
For lol I bring you beauty, 
To take you for my bride/' 

I kissed my new love as I said: 
**Oh, I am thine to keep, 
Altho* my first love is not dead, 
And therefore I must weep/' 



50 



CREDO 

OH, greater than God I 
Oh, deeper than all wisdom! 
Oh, sharper than the sting of death! 
Oh, more boundless than earth 
Or the many stars, 
This love that fills my heart. 

Oh ,miracle of the divine! 

Oh, mystery of all mysteries! 

Oh, strange flight of the spirit! 

Oh, beauty illimitable 

As the wide sky — 

This love that fills my heart. 

(Earth is a rainbow. 

And my heart is young with wonder, 

Since Love has come.) 



II 



NOCTURNE 

I LIE alone under the boughs of the trees; 
They drip clear water, 
And the rain dances about me 
In bright flashes like little stars. 
The trees are thick and lowering; 
The night is very black 
And there is no wind; 
Only the darkness that shuts out the wide, cool sky. 

There is fear at my heart, 
Fear that closes about me like the night. 
Fear that comes in little quick flashes 
Like the drops of rain. 

Is it of the wide still night 

That I am fearful. . . . 

(O dark, starless and full of silence!) 

I tremble because of love that is my heart, 
Love deeper than the still night. 
More wonderful than the cool sky — 
Love, whose too great beauty 
Has made me afraid. . . . 



52 



APHRODITE 

FOR three years you loved me; 
When you took me I was Aphrodite 
Fresh from the foam 
And wonder of Youth awakening. 

For you the beauty of my natal hour; 
My kisses were your food; 
I watched you grow golden 
With the manna of my love! 

Now from my body all the lustre, 
All the splendor of the sea 
And the freshness of youth awakening, 
Have vanished forever. 

For three years you loved me; 
Now I am no more Venus rising from the sea; 
I am a Parian marble, white and silent, 
Awaiting your worship. 



53 



ASHES 

SO it has all ended in ashes — 
This beautiful love of ours, 
This love like the breath of dawn 
On a summer lea — 
This love that lit our hearts 
With wonder. 

Why could it not have been otherwise? 

As a star that falls thro' space, 

Silvery-winged and swift. 

So I would that our love had died 

Exquisite in its flight 

Through the dark. 

But all this weeping and anguish 

That sweeps thro' our aching hearts 

Is useless as bitter flame; 

And the holy fane of love — 

The miracle of our joy — 

Is but ashes and empty tears. 



64 



REQUIESCAT 

VWAS here I walked with you. But you are 
dead. . . . 

(I wonder if the roses on your grave can still be 
red.) 

This lonely lane once flowered with your smile. . . . 
(I wonder if the stars have made for you a shining 
bed.) 

I held your hand Beloved, all the while. . . . 
(I wonder why I still recall the tender words you 
said.) 

*Twas here I walked with you. But you are dead. . . . 
(I wonder if the hair is golden yet about your head.) 



55 



IMPRISONED 

LOVE, with a silken cord 
My heart enwound; 
Joy was my spirit's lord 
And singing sound. 

After a little space 

My heart, in pain, 
Wept, for in love's soft place 

Was forged a chain! 



56 



YOU WHOM I NO LONGER LOVE 

WHY am I wakeful thinking of you in the night, 
You whom I no longer love, 
You who love me no more? 
Yet if you would turn the handle of my door 
And stand before me white. 
Like a young dove, 
For just a little while 
I think I would look up and smile. 

What are these thoughts of you that strangle me 

In this silent midnight hour? 

Memories, dreams that cloud my eyes 

And with strange torture rise, 

Mocking my misery. 

Somehow I wonder if the flower 

Of old-time joy would burst to flame 

If, dear, you came. 

Yea, if you stood beside me in the night. 

You whom I no longer love, 

You who love me no more, 

I would give you my hands as before. 

And tremble with delight. 

No thought would I have of 

The years our hearts were dumb. 

If you should come. 

(And at this moment you are ^wakeful, too, 
Thinking of me, as I, of you,) 



57 







TWILIGHT 
NE pale star gleaming in the amber sky, 



Day's death; a thousand butterflies that soar 
Into the languid ether; the downpour 
Of flickering golden lights that dance and die. 

Your head upon my bosom; still we lie 
In the red-tinged shadows of the wheat, 
And all about the little singing feet 
Of birds and crickets as they flutter by. 

Love is beauty. Oh, lift your frail arms high 
That I may see the glory of your face. 
And in the darkness hear the quiet peace 
Of God who lingers like a brother, nigh. 



68 



A DAUGHTER TO HER MOTHER 

YOU will forgive me in the coming years, 
When we no longer wander hand in hand, 
And I have passed into a silent land 

Beyond recalling, — yea, beyond your tears; 

You will remember me as a wind that veers, 
And brought the April sunshine and the storm, 
And while you sit alone watching the warm 

Spring break, you will forget these pains and fears, 

And think of me as one who loved too well. 
Who drank too deep of life, and thirsted much 
For beauty, and who suffered for the touch 

Of loveliness remote, intangible; 

And you shall say, as every Spring shall dawn: 

"I have forgiven her now that she is gone. . . " 



59 



RESURGAM 

WHEN there shall sound across the quiet sky 
And sea, 
Like sunlight bursting into flower, 
My ultimate hour, 
I have but one desire above 
All things: that you should think of me, 
Remembering our old love. 

Having seen 

A vanished beauty flush the sky, 

Then I could die 

Serene. 



«0 



WHEN LIFE IS DONE 



WHEN life is done, 
And weeping over, 
And the last rays of the sun 
My body cover. 
When the v^ind is still 
And bird songs no more fill 
The silvery air. 
Will you be waiting there 
On yonder hill, 
O my lost lover, 
When life is done 
And weeping over? 

When the stars are gone, 
And the moonbeams fail, 
When the dying dawn 
Flickers pale. 
And the wide sea 
Has taken me 
From time and care. 
Will you be waiting there, 
Tenderly, 
In some still vale, 
When the stars are gone 
And the moonbeams fail? 



61 



SHADOW 

I CAN love only you, 
And since you can never be mine 
Therefore I must love a shadow. 

O Shadow, lovely as dawnrise. 

Like a wind of summer are you to my soul, 

Soft wind amid the skies. 

Forever must I love only a shadow 
Impalpable, exquisite thing, 
Diaphanous as a rainbow wing. 

(But when the long dark nights are here, 
It is your lips I need, and I would rest 
On the white violet of your breast.) 



62 



METEMPSYCHOSIS 

I KNOW that we shall meet again, 
I know not where or how; 
The beauty and the joy and pain 
Cannot be ended now. 

I know that you will come to me, 

I know not when or why. 
And all that we have dreamed shall be 

A dream that will not die. 



63 



AFTER LOVE 

SWEET it is to meet again, 
Now that love is past, 
We are free of joy and pain 
At last. 

Sweet it is to touch your hair, 

Now we love no more, 
All the longing and despair 

Gone before. 

Sweet it is to feel you near, 

Now that love is dead, 
All the anguish and the fear 

Finally fled. 

Sweet it is to know that we 
Now have reached the land, 

After years on Love*s wide sea. 
Hand in hand! 



64 



RENOUNCEMENT 

GO from me. Hide such perfect loveliness 
Afar beyond the tread of mortal feet; 
I want not the soft touch of lips that meet 
Above love's bier. I w^ant not your caress, 
Nor the white violet of your nakedness; 
I want not love as others love; instead 
Grant me the vision of your beauty fled, 
The nocturne image of your youth. Ah, less 
Than other lovers* is my need, yet more 
For the heart's keeping; there I sweet enclose 
The memoried fragrance of the blossoming rose, 
And with a reverential joy explore 
Each sacred nook of sense and spirit. Dear, 
Go from me that the dream may bring you nearl 



65 



TEACH ME TO SUFFER 

TEACH me to suffer, that I may not weep, 
But silently to bear my pain alone, 
To all but my own secret self unknown; 

So I may go into the world and keep 

Hidden within my heart its sorrow deep, 
As fathomless seas enfold their marvellous store 
Of coral, pearl and flowers, treasures more 

Than man could conjure or his hands could reap. 

Oh, let this trial be like some silent thing 
That makes my spirit richer with the years. 
So I may learn to suffer without tears 

And go my way on earth unmurmuring; 
Then shall I find in Grief the perfect goal. 
The beauty that shall compensate my soul! 



66 



PAGEANTS 



PAGEANTS 

I NEVER see soldiers marching to music, 
But I hear the sickening din of the battle, 
And I think of the grim stark terrors of warfare. 
I never see children play in the sunlight. 
But I think of how much they will have to suffer 
For they know not what is awaiting them in the 

future. 
I never see lovers sitting together happy, 
But I think of the anguish that comes with loving — 
The waiting, the fear, the hope, the longing, the 

heartache. 
I never see youth walking before me radiant. 
But I picture the hour when the smile and the light 

will have faded, 
When the strength and the glow of the body will 

have passed into nothingness. 

I never see the city flaming with banners 
Flaunting its color and movement and magic — 
Its marvellous splendour awful, tumultuous, 



69 



But it seems like a puppet-show, lurid and gaudy, 
And I think of the spaces of still country meadows, 
Where birds are soaring into the ether, 
And beauty is more real than a shadow, and God 

is far more than a name is! 
I never see April spreading her nimbus of azure 
O'er mountain and valley and quickening the earth 

with her glory, 
But I think of the autumn and winds that are chill- 
ing and fearless 
And of snows that come bruising the faces of 
flowers. 

It is strange none who pass in the bright-colored 

pageant 
Called Life are in any way fearful; 
And not one is afraid; not the soldier who walks 

to the bugle, 
Not the child as he laughs and plays in the sunlight, 
Not the lover awaiting his sweetheart's caresses, 
Not the youth who is facing the future undaunted. 
Not the dweller of cities barbaric and splendid, 
Not the flowers of April that crimson the meadows, 
For none know as I know who stand watching it 

pass me — 
Life the great spectacle, piteous, ruthless. 



70 



BEHIND THE SCENES 

WOMEN have doffed their tinselled gowns and 
stand 
Huddled together idly in the wings, 
Their w^eary eyes sad with unuttered things. 
Somewhere in solemn tones a tenor sings, 
His voice reverberant thro' the painted land. 
Tawdry and dull the scenery hangs in lines, 
Meadows and brooks and clustered grotesque 

flowers. 
Castles and thrones and walls and colored bowers, 
Dangling in creases where the spotlight shines. 
Aloft is a labyrinth of winding stairs 
Thro' lonely halls unlit and serpentine, 
To the dressing rooms, where powdered girls on 

chairs 
Await their turn or indolently lean 
Half-naked at their mirrors of rough board. 
The lights are feverish, and behind each scene. 
Within dark pits of shadow, chests are stored, 
Odd bits of property piled here and there 
Beneath the iron girders bleak and bare. 

Beyond, the house looms like a clouded sea 
Immovable and hushed to the round dome, 
Watching the scene with its bright pageantry, 
While in the eaves the men and women roam 
Aimless and tired in their great wilderne«»« 

71 



Of silent shapes and shadows. Flown the mirth 
And glittering beauty; garish in undress, 
The stage is desolate, a shoddy earth — 
Merely place of dreary emptiness. 

The curtain drops. ... A blinding rush of light, 
Hundreds of hurrying figures black and white— 
A rush of footsteps — then the sudden fall 
Of interminable darkness over all. 



72 



IN A CAFE 

I GAZE on the people about me, 
The crowd of many faces, 
And suddenly I become detached, 
I stand apart, 

Watching the mimic masquerade of life; 
I hear laughter, 
I see grimaces of joy, 
And I wonder silently 

Which one is himself, naked and unashamed, 
Which one dares the despair of beauty, 
Which one is other than an actor in a puppet-show? 
And a longing comes to me for something sublime — 
Some stellar flight of loveliness. 
Some impassioned utterance, 

A lover who perished on the bosom of his sweet- 
heart — 
Some sudden swing of the pendulum 
That shall shatter this hollow carnival! 

I gaze on the faces of the people about me 

And I know that all is unreal — 

All is mist and skimming shadow, 

Passing, passing into nothingness. 

Sometime it must end 

This hollow carnival. . . . 

And I stand awaiting the great hour 

When they will have to doff their masks. . . . 

73 



THE DANCER 

I DANCE to forget life, 
For I have had enough of love and roses, 
And I would feel the blood riot in my veins 
Warm as a Summer windl 

Bring the music! 

Let us dance till our dreams lie dead. 

And the haggard dawn shivers 

On the shining floor! 

Let there be wild song 

And false mirth to fill the heavy air; 

As careless boys in carnival 

Let us be glad! 

Let me be full of rhythm 
Until I am drunk unto forgetting! 
Unfurl the pageant of color 
That I may drown therein. 

I dance to forget life, 

For I have had enough of love and roses. 

And in a blind reel 

I would take Death by the hand. 



74 



IN THE DEPOT 

WOMEN — passing and repassing, 
Tired women and sad women and smiling 

women, 
Hurrying with heavy bundles. 

Their footsteps tap, tap, tap on the stone floor. 
Young women with light firm tread, 
Painted women with amorous mouths. 
Strutting with breasts thrown forward like arrogant 

pigeons; 
Women conscious of their sex and the desire of 

men's eyes; 
Women fresh, buo3^ant, hopeful, laughing, 
Women thinking of the caresses awaiting them as 

they go to meet their lovers; 
Pale, wan women with anxious faces. 
Women who drag their legs wearily after the long 

days* work, 
Vacant-eyed, staring women; 
Women with bright crackling gowns and spreading 

hips; 
Old women with wrinkled cheeks and hollow 

bosoms; 
Women with dishevelled hair and pendulous abdo* 

mens; 
Women who walk aimlessly seeming not to know 

where they are going; 



76 



Startled women, prim women, and vain, beautiful 

self-satisfied women; 
Lank women and soft women, flushed and dimpled; 
Sallow women and stout women breathing heavily — 
Women hurrying, hurrying, 
Their footsteps like the tap, tap of water from a 

tankard. 

These are the ivomen men have ^worshipped, 

These are the ivotnen fwho suffer that a little child may 



n 



LITANY 

GIVE me my utmost hour and let me die! 
Even as the golden bee in the azure sky, 
Even as the rainbow that glow^s and fades on high, 
Even as the radiant star that dims with dawn, 
Even as the rose that swoons on the languid breeze, 
Even as the sunbeam paling, wan, 
Lord, let me be as these! 
(Give me my utmost hour and let me die!) 

I am weary, weary of all discovered things. 

Of the feast of love and delight with its painted 

wings. 
Of the moon's slow gaze and the keen wind when 

it sings. 
Of day in its august splendour of shining noon, 
Of scented flowers and bird's glad threnodies — 
Lord, I want none of these. 
(I am weary, weary of all discovered things.) 

Give me a rapture no mortal has ever known! 
Some perfect joy that shall fill my heart alone. 
Some beautiful vision from unseen regions blown, 
Some sweetness beyond all bourne, some exquisite 

pain, 
Some new mad riot of unborn ecstasies, 
Some dream that is wild and vain. 
Lord, why not one of these? 
(Give me a rapture no mortal has ever known!) 



77 



ADONIS 

LYING in wounded rapture at my feet, 
Adonis, like a slender limbed fawn. 
Sang in a dying loveliness so sweet 
He fainted in the dawn. . . . 

Slain in a tempest of the soul. Who knows 
But his inanimate body cold and white 
Stirs me to wonder, as some moon-drenched rose 
Upon a summer night. 

Oh, I shall take him now to be my own, 
Our bridal-couch the damp worm-cankered sod, 
And my fond kisses shall be only known 
To God. 



78 



SEEKERS 

WE are very lonely, 
We seekers after Beauty. 
For we walk strange paths of silence. . . 

We go where none have trodden, 
Thirsting and alone — 
Dizzy under the stars. 

What will appease our dreams? 
And what assuage our need 
Of loveliness? 

Immaculate Beauty! 
Why must we suffer 
To attain your kingdom? 

We are very lonely, 

We seekers after Beauty, 

For there is the thirst of ages in our souls. 



79 



I 



BACCHANTE 

AM inebriate with the sunlight's golden wine, 
And I would love with an insensate fury! 



Let me drain beauty even unto death! 

Bring me a languid woman, perfumed, young. 

Her dusky body hung with dazzling gems 

And strange, exotic iridescent stuffs — 

Her wanton eyes like thirsty summer moons. 

Oh, I would love with an insensate fury! 
Bring me a pale flower-boy. 
White-limbed like a young heifer in a field. 
His lips a-quiver with unknown desire. . . . 
His soft throat virgin beneath my kiss. 
His bosom like a bower of stars. 

I would dance like a drunken fawn amid the wood. 
Enraptured with the budding pollen-scents! 



80 



I PITY ALL PEOPLE 

I PITY all people who walk the earth — 
Weary-eyed women, 
Little pale children, too weak to play, 
And strange men, with tired faces 
Who follow the winding paths of life. 
I pity all creatures who have ever been born 
For not one is without some hidden sorrow. 

Only when men come to die I do not weep. 
For then they have no need of my pity. 



81 



O VITA! O MORS! 

THE dark pit of life, 
The dark pit of death— 
I stand between; 
And I cannot chose. 

O Life, I fear you, 
Mistress of sorrow; 

Death, I fear you. 
Mistress of sleep. 

1 stand amidst 

The yawning darkness; 
Which is the lesser pain: 
O Life, O Death? 



82 



AMERICA, TO ARMS! 

SHE stands a guardian of the endless sea, 
Her garb is golden and her lips are flame; 
She is the portal of eternity 
And Beauty is the realm from which she came. 
She is the voice of many bleeding lands. 
America, she calls 1 To arms, arise, 
For like a glimmering sabre in the skies 
In scarlet glow she stands 
A guardian of the earth and sea — 
Liberty 1 



ss 



SPRING IN WARTIME 

THE earth is bright with splendour, 
The winter winds are fled, 

The winter snow is racing 

Swift down the river bed; 

The willow-buds are breaking, 

The blue-bird whistles clear, 

New green is on the hillside. 

And Beauty trembles near. 

. . . . O Spring, ^why all your glory, 
In shining pageant spread 
When I hear the ivounded moaning 
And the fields are dyed ivith red . . 

The crocus-flowers are springing 

And golden in the sun; 

The trees are hung with blossom, 

And swift the streamlets run; 

The love-note of the cuckoo 

Floats on the quiet air; 

The sky is like an opal. 

So luminous and fair. 

. . . . O Spring, ^why all this glory, 
In shining pageant spread 
When I hear the ivounded moaning 
And the fields are dyed ^with red . . 



84 



SOLDIER'S PRAYER TO BEAUTY 

BEAUTY, let me not forget you 
In the white heat 
Of war! 

Let me remember the hour I met you, 
When your silvery feet 
Trembled from afar; 
So in the tumult and woe 
Your glorious presence my soul may know. 

In the clash and strife 

Give me Beauty's face 

O Life, 

Fair as a star 

On a chartless sea, 

When I go forth in the rocket's glare. 

The cannon's roar and din. 

When I stand in the shattered air — 

Give me your light within; 

On the fields of blood before me. 

Your spirit shining o'er me. 

Beauty, give me your face at the last. 
Your face like a brilliant flower. 
In the awful hour 
When Death comes past; 
Thus shall I do my part, 
Calm in the shrapnel shower, 
Beauty, if you desert not my heart I 



85 



CONSCRIPTION: THE MOTHER SPEAKS 

YOU ask me why I gave my son? 
^ (As, well does God know why!) 
That Prussian blood may swiftly run, 
That tyranny may die. 
That over earth all men may go 
At freedom's call, and none may know 
The Vandal's power within our land, 
The Vandal's arrogant command! 

You ask me why I gave my son? 

(Ah well does God know why!) 

I gave him that the treacherous Hun 

Might well defeated lie. 

I gave him that the coming race 

Might meet with Justice, face to face, 

And free men mingle over earth 

In Liberty's divine re-birth! 



86 



REVEILLE 

TODAY my lover takes his gun 
Across the meadows in the sun, 
Across the scented fields of May, 
I see him going on his way, 
His swaying figure straight and strong 
Thro' the long 
Mile on mile against the sun. 
Today my lover takes his gun! 

Today my lover takes his gun, 

(Ah well, Love's golden dream is done!) 

For he is marching far away 
Along the scented lanes of May, 
His bayonet pointed toward the sky. 
And grave his fearless eye. 
Undaunted by the scorching sun. 
(Today my lover takes his gun.) 



87 



IN THE ARMORY 

FACES that pass and pass, 
Brave-eyed, featless, resolute, 
Features clear-cut like bronze 
Against the glow of the glass-paned roof; 
Feet that march, march, march 
On the wide shining floor of the armory. 
Smooth and bright and hard. 
Rows and rows of staunch shoulders touching, 
Their guns click, click, click 
At the sergeant's call. 
Round, round, round, turning, wheeling. 
In long straight flanks they pass. 
Marching, marching, marching, 
Under the great wide dome in the fitful daylight, 
And the gray tired city stretching on all sides. 
Vast domain of young endeavor. 
With its thousands of lads waiting, waiting. 
Wide-armed clasping Beauty within its stronghold. 
These are the noble faces, the perfect courage, 
That show in manhood the true divinity! 



88 



THE SOLDIER 

HE died a soldier^s death ... I do not weep, 
But stand in quiet wonder by his grave, 
Remembering his last words: *'I go to save 
The women and the little children sweet, 
So earth may be free pathways for their feet, 
And their bruised bodies may be healed by brave 
Men dying." Chant the bugle full and deep! 
He died a soldier's death. I do not weep, 
But stand in quiet wonder by his grave. . . . 



89 



LOVE SONGS 



LOVE SONGS 



I COULD go to some far island of the moon, 
But never would I be lonely; 
For have I not the thought of my beloved, 
My beloved v^ith dove-soft eyes 
And lips like a young rose? 

Oh, fair is he whom I love. 

Whiter than the sea-foam, 

And his breast is softer than falling snow-flakes. 

I could go to some far island of the moon. 

But never could I be lonely, 

For I have the thought of my beloved,— 

My beloved with dove-soft eyes 

And fairer than an April morningl 



93 



II 



IN a field of summer wheat, 
Golden as the sheaves^ 
I saw you standing under the sky. 

The birds ceased singing, 
And the wind paused 
Breathless with beauty. 

The sun paled in the heavens, 
And day swooned with delight 
At so much loveliness. 

Wind, sky, light, earth. 
Reeled in blinding mist. 
Shattered into nothingness. 

Like a golden sun-bird 

You stood, spirit of immortal beauty, 

Naked amid the wheat-sheaves. 



94 



Ill 

THE world is an enchanted place, 
My soul a~ fairy flower; 
I look upon the heaven's face 
Each shining hour. 

Each passer is a morning star 

Upon the brilliant way; 
I know not what earth-longings are, 

So bright the day. 

My heart is hushed as with the spring, 

I mourn no more or pine; 
Beauty is lit in everything — 

My love, my love is mine! 



95 



IV 



BECAUSE of you I am glad of the day, 
Like a bird on lifted wing; 
Because of you my heart holds May 
And the hue of a new-born spring. 

Because of you the sky takes light, 
And earth has the face of a flower; 

Because of you the ebon night 
Is starred with rainbow-shower. 

Because of you the winged sod 

Glows with a beauty divine; 
Because of you I have looked on God,— 

He spoke since you were mine. 



9€ 



HEAL me with your love, 
Fold me in your heart; 
Let me think not of 
The long years apart. 

Let me no more weep, 
Lying on your breast; 

Kiss my soul to sleep, 
There it would find rest. 

I shall no more go 

Lonely on my way; 
We shall only know 

Love, each happy day. 

Tears and sorrow over. 
Eased the aching smart. . . 

Fold me, O my lover, 
Ever in your heart I 



97 



VI 



You asked me yesterday what moment seemed 
Most beautiful of all our love-hours sweet; 
— Beloved, it was when kneeling at your feet 
One summer's eve, you looked at me and smiled, 
While in your cherished face there softly gleamed 
The tenderness of a mother for her child. 



98 



VII 



I SING with the wind, 
I laugh with the sun, 
I am the first star 
When day is done. 

I soar with the bird, 
I pulse with the tree. 

My soul is the cloud — 
I love. ... I am free! 



99 



VIII 

WE are in the mist where the poppies smile, 
Red-mouthed with delight, 
And the billowy clouds float aloft 
Their sails of white. 

We tread the fragrant, phantom lanes. 

Paved with dancing sheen, 
And when your lips reach down for mine 

One star falls between I 



100 



IX 

T AM no more myself, 

For love has made us indivisible. 
I have become you — 
(And Oh I the joy of this intermingling!) 

As two stars that fall thro* space 
Join their silvery pinions in the night, 
So thro* the dark of life 
Shot the shining arrow of our love. 

I am liberated from self, 

Self has merged in you; 

I am not I, for I have become you; 

(And Oh! the joy of this intermingling!) 



101 



I AM no more lonely, now that I have known your 
love, 
Now that your love lies safe in my heart; 
I go my way in wonder. 
Companioned by great beauty. 
Everywhere there are silvery voices calling me. 
And when I walk beneath the stars 
I understand the speech of the wind-cool sky. 
And when I mingle with many people 
I am one with the secret of their souls. 

Until you came I was ever lonely; 

I knew only solitude over the earth, 

In the forests or playing with little children. 

In the dawn-hour or in the shadow — 

I walked alone, wandering in exile, 

Till the golden hour of glory and gladness, 

When your love like a moon-ray filled my heart 

And Beauty came forth with kisses of starlight. 



102 



XI 

I KNOW that you whom I love today 
Will sometime pass out of my life, 
And all this joy and laughter, 
This love that lights my heart 
Will be no more, 
And I will be left lonely, 
As all women. 

I know that the glory of this dream 
That came like the breath of spring. 
All this bloom and beauty, 
As of a thousand dawns, 
This gladness of meeting lips. 
And this great calm of the spirit, 
Cannot last forever. 

I know that some day I shall walk alone, 
Looking with eyes that cannot weep 
Upon the future desolate. 



103 



APRIL IDYLS 



APRIL IDYLS 



WHEN I left you, 
And April sprang in the meadows 
Misty and golden, 
Your face that leaned to mine. 
Awaiting my kisses 
With anguish piteous, pallid. 
Looked like the white-browed Hermes, 
Compassionate, wondering, tearless. . . . 



107 



II 



WE were walking by a swift river; 
The willows were golden above us, 
And the new green of the meadows 
Was not greener than your strange eyes, 
Full of flight 
As a bird's spread wings over sunny valleys. 

^'Beloved," you said, 

As we watched the sunset lights on the river, 

**We are like two beings 

Born of one womb/' 

In your eyes I saw my image 
Mirrored like sudden fire. . . . 



108 



Ill 



You have gone from me, 
And I go forth alone 
Into the shadow, 
Where there are no sounds, 
Where there are no perfumes. 
Where there are no colors. 
Where is no magic. 

Where there is only darkness and silence, 
Like the deep, still waters of a bottomless lake. 



109 



I 



IV 



HAVE made for your face a nest of roses, 
And hid you far 



In the depths of my heart where the moon's white 

glow reposes, 
Wreathed in a star. 

I have made for your love a beautiful home of 

flowers, 
And o'er you shed 

The deathless murmur of birds in perfumed bowers. 
Where our dreams lie dead. 





110 



THE SILENT HOURS: VALE 

(Requiescat, Aisne, 1917.) 

**Nec sine to nee tecum vivere possum.'* — Ovid. 



THE SILENT HOURS: VALE 



WE are together in the Silent Hours, 
When dusk has furled its banners and the 
night 
Is tremulous on the hilltop in a white 
Illimitable halo of moonflowers. 
For when the curtain of the twilight lowers, 
And the dull eves are barren of delight, 
My spirit falls dreaming and takes sudden flight 
Into the realm of Silence. . . . Sweet, 'tis ours. 
This fathomless region of commingling soul; — 
Unfearful we partake of beauty's wine 
And quaff with joyous lips the mute divine 
Watching the glory of the stars unroll. 
Yea, in the Silent Hours you come to me, 
I breathe your voice. . . I touch you wonderingly. 



lis 



II 



THE moment of our Love most beautiful 
Was when at dusk we stood beside a lake, 
The sunset fires within the woods awake 
Like scarlet flower-fangs. Our hearts were full 
Of gentle peace; the forest hush was deep, 
And night, jewel-poised within the sapphire sky 
Made love a holy thing. . . . We felt the high 
Exalting rapture that ambrosial sleep 
Casts o'er the yielding spirit, and we heard 
The immutable silence of the twilit hour, 
Our hearts attuned to some invisible power 
Commingling as the two wings of a bird. 
Dark fell; we parted and I went my way; 
I did not even touch your lips that day. 



114 



Ill 



So long it is that I have sought your face 
In many fands, in ever-changing guise, 
Throughout the multitudinous past that lies 
Stretching behind me like a desert space; 
Yea, in strange forms of some pre-natal race 
My soul has wandered, seeking for your soul 
O'er starry seas, in wooded glen and knoll. 
Begging of God a little gift of grace — 
The music of your swiftly passing feet. 
The solace of your voice, so long desired. 
O lovely and beloved, my heart was tired 
With the old quest, and when it leapt to meet 
That first light-giving glimmer of your eyes, 
It touched all beauty's ultimate dawn-rise! 



115 



IV 



SHOULD you not come an hour when I await, 
And stark the hours should fall one after one, 
Void of all beauty and unknown to sun, 

I would take sorrow for my constant mate 

Nor care if death came early. O, how great 
Would be the empty longing of my heart. 
Still warm from its late loving, happy part. 

Yet fearful of the lonely future state. 

Beloved, we stand for now incorporate, 
But what of that still hour inevitable 
When there shall sound the terrifying knell 

Of parting? .... Life may keep me very late, 
And you may go, and I shall pass alone 
Like a gray leaf across a meadow blown. 



116 



BELOVED, I sometimes wish that you had died 
And passed into the calm of a green grave, 
Where I could tend your spirit, a glad slave 
Of perfect memories; and throughout the wide 
Mist-clouded future I could rest beside 
Your moss-embowered image, dreaming of when 
In some far land our souls might meet again 
Cast Heavenward by death's befriending tide! 
But you are living, and you tread the same 
Deflowered earth as I, although our ways 
Are sundered, and I cannot even claim 
Sufficient tears to call back those glad days 
When first your love into my lone heart came, 
And when your lips first fondly spoke my name I 



117 



VI 



IF I could take this love from out my heart 
And go my way in silence and alone, 
Unweeping, and to fear and joy unknown, 
Forgetful of the world's bright-colored mart. 
Passing amidst the human throng, apart, 
Like one who walks with beauty in the night. 
Remembering all the tears and vain delight, 
The rapture and the pain that were my part — 
Then I could watch again the swallows dart 
Into the sky's blue dome unenvyingly, 
Knowing I am at last as they are, free. . . . 
And I would say: "Though all sweet dreams depart, 
I shall be ever glad remembering. 
As one in winter hears the voice of Spring.*' 



118 



VII 

I CANNOT live without you, dear. ... I pace 
The haunted pathways of my bitter life; 
Each spot with your sweet memory is rife, 
And in each hour I find your beauty's trace. 
As a meteor soaring the aerial space, 
So have you shed about me everywhere 
The immemorial image of your fair 
And radiant youth. . . . How can my heart erase 
The recollection of your seraph face, 
The luminance of a love illimitable? 
For like the tumult and the thunder-knell 
Of sonorous seas, your spirit's celestial grace 
Swept o'er me, and I fell before its tide. 
Humble and happy as one glorified. 



119 



VIII 

OH, I would kill you, that I might enjoy 
Your beauty unmolested, and respire 
Each perfect thing about you, till desire 
Ceased from satiety. I would destroy 
The sickly flame of life, so I could toy 
With your sun-tinged tresses at my will. 
And quaff the rose-scent of your skin and fill 
Each separate part of me with sweetness. Boy, 
Thus shall delight of you without alloy 
Wake in my heart; for when I kiss your face, 
It shall not quiver in my fond embrace 
Beset with oldtime images. Sweet and coy 
Your faultless breast shall all its treasures give. 
(/ love you dear, too much to let you Iwe!) 



120 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

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